Loft mouse, fuck off!

Every night I hear the little bastard scurry its way into the loft, just after midnight, and sound like it's going for gold above me. The Mo Farah of mice, it is sprinting about in my fucking loft. AIBU to be a teeny tiny bit hopeful that one of these nights it falls off the fucking roof?

It's bad enough that I once accidentally hoovered one of the fuckers up (it was already dead...it ruined my Henry!), but the thought of it falling through the ceiling as I lie here in bed makes me ill.

Don’t want to be negative here but you don’t get ONE mouse! He’s undoubtedly got his posse with him and they are doing a relay.I hate mice! Once had them in the house and tried everything, nothing worked until the arrival of Gobbler (the cat)Good luck!

They're quieter, but I share your hatred for the fucking skanky 🐜 ants that get into our kitchen from nowhere. I hate them. I hate them so much. Sneaky creepy little line of fuckers, heading silently and psychically for the bin/fridge/strawberry that DD decided to chuck somewhere equally silently and sneakily (toddlers are like the answer to the mass prayers of ten billion ants)...

How? How do they know where the food is? How do they appear out of nowhere? How do their horrible mates smell their "found food" scent so quickly? They're like something out of a post apocalyptic war scene, except on a really tiny scale.

We had cellar mice. Just two of them - they'd fallen through a vent from the garden - but the little fuckers were a nightmare to catch. We bought wire wool and shoved it in every single tiny hole we could find (and I mean tiny, apparently mice can get through a hole the size of a pencil ) and we haven't had a problem since - our cats are absolutely useless.